Dean kissed Lisa softly on the lips, gave her a final smile, and walked out the door.

It had been almost a year.

Almost a year of hunting, not for evil, but for a job. It was harder than Dean would have thought, but after a few months of fruitless searching, he figured he should have known better. He didn't have any experience, references, or a college education; how far could he expect to get in the real world? Still, he helped out as much as he could. Lisa never asked where he got the money, and he was grateful for that.

Almost a year of driving, not cross-state, not to Bobby's, not to random bar or a possible hunt. No, mostly Dean drove to the baseball diamond, to the batting cages with Ben, to the grocery store. It was strange to him, being confined to a neighbourhood so small, almost foreign. The whole of America used to be his back yard. And now his back yard was, well, his backyard. It wasn't a bad thing, not necessarily. Dean appreciated the parking space in front of Lisa's house – his house – that was always open for his Impala. It also meant less money spent on gas. Sometimes though, only sometimes, Dean could feel his foot twitch towards the gas pedal when the sign that read "Leaving Cicero" came into view. But he never passed it.

It had been almost a year of looking over to the passenger seat and not seeing Sam. Sometimes Lisa sat there, sometimes Ben, sometimes no one at all. But never Sammy.

Up until today, Dean had been okay with this life. He wasn't happy, no, but he never really expected to be, not after everything. He knew the most he could hope for was being content and, though it had taken a while, Dean was almost there. He could almost reach out and touch it.

So for almost a year now, Dean had lived a "normal" life. As normal as could be expected of him, at least. He still slept with a knife under his pillow. He kept the Colt in the drawer of the bedside table and Lisa never asked about it. And, in typical Dean Winchester fashion, he tried to forget.

Night after night, he lost himself in Lisa, hoping the feel of her body under his would be enough to stop the flow of memories, if only for a little while. And sometimes it would. Some nights he would fall asleep holding her in his arms, her soft skin a comfort, and he wouldn't dream. But sometimes even she couldn't keep him from remembering. On those nights, she pretended she couldn't feel him leave the bed after he thought she'd fallen asleep. She pretended she didn't notice him passed out the next morning in his car, bottle of whiskey in hand, as she left for work.

And he pretended he couldn't see the hurt on her face.

So yes, he had almost been content, for some of the time, at least. But Dean was done with that now, done with all of it. There would be no more job hunting, no more grocery runs, no more shock jolting through him when he turned to the passenger seat and saw Ben's little face instead of Sam's.

Why?

Because it had been almost a year. Eleven months and nineteen days, to be exact. This would make it May 2, 2011. Sammy's birthday. The day Dean would decide that he just couldn't take 'normal' anymore. Not while Sam was suffering.

The Winchesters had never put much stress on birthdays. Many of them had gone uncelebrated, some barely even noticed. But despite how it may have seemed, they were never forgotten. Dean never needed words to say "Happy Birthday" to his brother. Every May 2nd, he just passed the keys of the Impala off to him and let him drive. Sam never questioned it, just smiled knowingly and reminded himself not to forget the pie every January 24th.

When May 2, 2011 rolled around, Dean realized that it was Sam's first birthday in five straight years that he couldn't wordlessly toss him the keys. And with that knowledge, Dean popped the trunk of the Impala.

He dug around for a while before he found what he was looking for. The only vinyl album he carried with him at all times, a copy of 'High Voltage', AC/DC's first album. His dad had bought it the day it came out and had passed it on to Dean on one of the rare Christmases he was actually around. The Impala didn't have a record player, of course, and most of the motels he stayed in lacked that luxury as well. He wouldn't need it.

May 2nd, 2011 was a Monday. Ben was at school. Dean slipped into his room, laid the album on his bed and scrawled out a quick note.

"Ben,

Sorry I'm not gonna be around anymore. I've got some important things I need to take care of. My dad gave this to me when I was about your age. I want you to have it. You'll get more use out of it than I will. Take care of it, okay? Your mom too.

- Dean

Lisa had the day off. He found her in the dining room, looking out the window with a glass of water in her hand. Dean stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Lise," he whispered.

Lisa turned around and she didn't even look confused. She nodded. "Thanks for everything," he told her. And that's when he kissed her softly on the lips, gave her a final smile, and walked out the door.

He got in the Impala and, for the first time in almost a year, he drove past that sign that read "Leaving Cicero". It felt good.

He didn't know where he was going. He didn't even have an idea on how he was going to help Sam. But he knew he would. He couldn't keep his promise anymore.

Sorry, little brother.

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A/N: Alright, so in case you didn't catch it in the description, this STORY will eventually include Dean/Cas slash. If that's not your thing, that's totally fine, but don't read on and then freak out when it eventually shows up. You were given fair warning.

Also, a very important not about this fic: I am pretending that the last few seconds of Swan Song never happened. Sam was never outside Lisa's house, okay? We're pretending that he's still in Hell.

The title is a line from a song called "Birds of Paradise" by the band Your Vegas.

So what did you think? Let me know, I would love some feedback. Thanks for reading.

- Nix (: